Breeding Ground
by orionmoreno
Summary: Ellen Riggs, an NCR funded Scientist from Vault City heads to the Mojave Wasteland to Investigate an increasing frequency in Deathclaw attacks


_**Breeding Ground**_

 _ **By: Paul Read**_

1.

Ellen Riggs sat patiently in the office of Ambassador Crocker, it was dusk but her Vertibird had arrived on the New Vegas Strip ahead of schedule and the Ambassadors receptionist had sent her straight through to wait. Riggs was a native of Vault City, a high tech settlement to the north of New Vegas populated by scientists, researchers and some of the best minds of the present age. In recent times, several of the research divisions had been sequestered by the NCR's fat cats to initiate programs to monitor the various species of mutated wildlife that populated the continent. As always, the NCR had ulterior motives for these programs as they were geared only towards species that posed a threat in some way towards the progress of the NCR in their efforts to monopolize the entire continent. Riggs's team had been assigned to look into the possible reasons behind the growing population of Deathclaws in the Mojave. The NCR had never paid much attention to the spread of these monsters, that was until they started attacking caravans containing vital weapons and supply shipments bound for the various NCR outposts.

Riggs and her team were privy to all the information already on record about the Deathclaw species, the trouble was that originally, Deathclaws were genetically engineered to act as close combat super soldiers and to be used exclusively for search and destroy missions, they were never meant to live wild and breed unmonitored. Riggs's team already had the genome of the species mapped and since the project to breed the animals was shelved by the NCR, her team was tasked to come up with a way of stopping the spread of wild Deathclaws across the continent. With specimens that were bred in captivity this was relatively easy, simply a matter of removing certain chromosomes while the Deathclaw was still in the egg to ensure all captive born specimens were either all the same sex, or infertile. However her team needed to see how the wild populace were reproducing, they needed a way to see if wild born Deathclaws had the same genetic make up as lab engineered specimens, and then figure out a way to stop them reproducing in the wild altogether.

The air in the Ambassadors office was stuffy and stale and looking around the room, Riggs reasoned that the place had not seen a woman's touch in quite a few years. The office was fairly large although in a state of disrepair, aside from the desk there was two large but somewhat battered sofas arranged on either side of a small coffee table in the centre of the room. A large bookcase, shelves and a bank of filing cabinets filled the wall along the west side. The opposite wall was filled with even more filing cabinets while behind the Ambassadors desk, two large windows so caked in grime and dirt, which failed to let any natural light in whatsoever flanked a large portrait of the current president Aaron Kimball. As Riggs was used to working in an air conditioned lab, the office in which she now sat felt alien and somewhat hostile. As this thought processed, the door behind her opened and Ambassador Dennis Crocker walked into the room. The Ambassador approached Riggs with one hand outstretched while the other was clutching a small face cloth and was firmly clamped to the back of his neck. Riggs rose and shook hands with the Ambassador,

'Ambassador Crocker' said Riggs, 'its a pleasure to meet you'.

'You too Ms. Riggs, goddamn its hot' responded Crocker as he transferred the cloth from his neck to his brow.

The Ambassador took his seat across from Riggs, shouted for his secretary to fix him fresh coffee and the two got down to business.

'So Ms Riggs, I have already processed all the relevant paperwork for your expedition, although I have to say, I sure hope you know what you are getting into here'. Riggs did not have the chance to respond as Crocker continued, 'as you may or may not know, advance reports and CPU communications tend to be a little vague nowadays, especially out here in New Vegas, maybe you could tell me a little more about what you hope to achieve with this expedition?'

'Well Ambassador, as you already know I am part of a research team from Vault City, for the last few years we have been gathering intelligence on the regional populations of Deathclaws. In an effort to secure trade routes and prevent attacks on NCR Brahmin caravans, supply shipments and, of course, native residents, my team has come to the point where we need physical information on wild specimens, therefore field research is the next logical step'.

Crocker considered this for a moment as his secretary brought in two steaming cups of black coffee, The Ambassador quizzically regarded the woman sat before him, his chair creaked and groaned as he sat back while bringing his hands together in front of him as if in prayer. 'Ms. Riggs, have you ever actually been out into the wasteland?'

The question caught her somewhat off guard, 'well I …'

'… Not just the Mojave' Crocker continued ' _any_ wasteland?'

Riggs recovered herself, 'in truth, no Ambassador, I have never been out into the field, in preparation for this trip I was required to do three weeks basic survival training with a scout platoon out of Arroyo but aside from that, this is the first time I have ever left Vault City'.

Crocker leaned forward and placed his chin on top of his now clenched hands 'and Deathclaws, have you ever even seen one?'

'I have dissected and studied several specimens back in my lab Ambassador and I can assure you I am well aware of their size, strength and anatomy' responded Riggs curtly.

'Well its all well and good studying one in a lab Ms. Riggs but I venture to say that your _awareness_ may be tested when one runs you down and tries to take your fuckin' skull apart'.

Riggs was unphased by the sudden change of tone, 'well Ambassador that's where you and the NCR come in, as you know this expedition has been cleared from the top so to take any issue with me is quite frankly a waste of both my time and the NCR's time, I was told I would receive not only full co-operation but also would be provided with a team and a guide to assist me'. Good Ellen, she told herself, keep cool and throw in the ranks.

Crocker rose from his chair and walked over to the portrait hanging on the wall behind him. He put his hands in his suit pockets and took a deep breath, 'Ms. Riggs, I don't know if you are aware of the current situation out here in the Mojave but the NCR is stretched almost to breaking point, we are currently fighting the Legion on all fronts and unfortunately it seems that you have misunderstood my personal opinion of this expedition'.

Riggs was intrigued 'oh? How so?'

'Well, as you so eloquently put it, this expedition _has_ been cleared from the top and we _both_ have our orders, mine were to provide the best resources I could spare you and as I just outlined, troops are spread thin at the moment, also please understand that my view on Deathclaws is one shared by the majority of people who have ever lost someone to a Deathclaw attack, while I have nothing against you personally...'

Riggs crossed her legs and took a sip of her coffee, Crocker was beginning to annoy her 'what _exactly_ are you saying Ambassador?'

Crocker turned and walked around the side of his desk, 'The fact is Ms Riggs, here in the Mojave the Deathclaws pose a lethal threat to anyone who does not live in a protected settlement and the majority of these people know that scientists such as yourself are the ones that were originally responsible for the creation of these abominations'.

Riggs fired back, ' _Mr_ Ambassador, I hardly think it fair that I personally should shoulder the responsibility for the creation of these animals, the truth is that the genetic engineering programs were operational before I was even born, the fact that I am here now must tell you that the government has acknowledged the threat these animals pose'. She took another sip of coffee and placed the mug on the desk before her, 'I am not here to make more of them, I am here to find a way to stop their numbers from increasing in the wasteland'.

Crocker walked back to the portrait, 'I know this Ms Riggs. I know this because I have read the proposal for this expedition. Unfortunately for you, no one else in the wasteland has, I'm simply saying that while you are out there, it may be beneficial to keep the fact that you are an NCR scientist to yourself'.

Riggs considered this, 'Ambassador, I am not here to step on anybody's toes, I am not here to rile or upset the local populace in any way, shape or form. The truth is that Deathclaw attacks here in the Mojave have been increasing in frequency over the last few years, more so than any other recorded settlement on the continent. Now, we can speculate and theorize over in Vault City from dawn till dusk about why this is happening but the fact is, we will never know if any of our theories are correct unless we come and see for ourselves'.

The Ambassador turned around and faced Riggs once more, 'Ms. Riggs, lets take a seat on the sofas shall we?' The two moved over to the sofas, Crocker sat back, crossed his legs and lit a cigarette. 'As I said before Ms. Riggs, the NCR is stretched to breaking point in the Mojave and has been for some years now, When the Deathclaws first became a problem I called a meeting with Colonel Cassandra Moore to see if we could form a dedicated division to deal with the threat these monsters pose. Eventually we came up with a solution, the only viable solution given how short on numbers the NCR was'.

'What solution?' Riggs asked.

'Years ago an NCR Ranger was dishonourably discharged from service after punching out his commanding officer, Hans was one of the best scouts the NCR had ever produced, he survived several tours against the Brotherhood of Steel out in California, was well liked by his men and by all accounts was actually in the right when he laid out his commander. Me and Colonel Moore both agreed that Hans was too valuable of a resource to pass up so he was covertly employed as a private contractor, acting on local reports and intelligence pertaining to suspicious disappearances, animal attacks and confirmed Deathclaw sightings … A Deathclaw hunter if you will'.

Riggs shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Crocker took a long drag of his cigarette and continued.

'The NCR employs just one man to limit the attacks on caravans and traders by these beasts, just _one_ man. He will be both your team and guide. Hans is the best guy in the Mojave at tracking, hunting and killing these fuckin' abominations and he's _your_ best bet to stay in one piece out there'.

'And where can I find this Hans?' Asked Riggs.

From the doorway behind them a gnarled, gruff voice spoke, 'well I'm right here miss...'

Hans walked into the room and stood at the foot of the coffee table between the couches on which the Ambassador and Riggs sat. Riggs regarded him carefully, Hans had a thick grey beard behind which was the weathered and sun-beaten look that she had seen on travellers passing through Vault City. He wore a battered pair of army boots, jeans, a dirty tan jacket from which hung several utensils and atop his head was an old, weather-beaten tan coloured ranger hat. Beneath his jacket, on his right hip Riggs could see what appeared to be the muzzle of a 12.7mm pistol and the weathered butt of a large rifle protruded over his right shoulder.

Hans looked at Riggs and simply said 'what the fuck are you doing out here Miss?'

Riggs held his stare 'well Mr … '

' … Hans, just Hans'.

'Well … Hans … I am a researcher from Vault City and the Ambassador here tells me that you are the best man in the Mojave to assist me with my teams current assignment, you see we have … '

' … Where's your sling?' The hunter interrupted.

'My sling?' Riggs replied perplexed.

'Your pack, travel gear, weapons, equipment'.

Hans took off his hat to reveal a tanned and balding head and placed it down on the table. He then reached over his shoulder and pulled the rifle from his back, loudly dropping it on the table next to his hat. He took a seat next to the Ambassador as Riggs looked at the weapon before her. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, it seemed to have started out life as a grenade launcher, she had seen similar ones during her training at Arroyo but this one appeared to have been converted to some kind of energy based weapon. She looked up at Hans.

'I have a bag outside … '

' … What's in it?' Hans interrupted again.

'My pistol, journal, clothes, a few chems and sampling equipment'.

Hans snorted, 'and you really think that all that shits gonna' keep you alive out there Miss?'

Riggs had no answer for the hunter, he sat back in the sofa and fished around in his jacket pocket from which he produced a pack of cigarettes and a metal lighter. He lit a cigarette and returned the items to his pocket, after a long draw he exhaled and addressed Riggs again.

'Listen Miss, I'm gonna' be honest with you, I think that you being here is a very bad idea. I think that you going out into the wasteland to research Deathclaws is a fuckin' stupid idea and the fact that you have a sling that contains a pistol and clothes just shows what a bunch of rat-fucks the NCR actually are … no offence Dennis'.

Riggs glanced over at the Ambassador who was staring stony faced right back at her. Hans took another drag of his cigarette. Riggs replied,

'Mr … Hans … I'm not going to sit here and tell you that I _want_ to be here, in fact if it was down to me I would be back in Vault City far away from harm and danger but the fact is that the head of my team assigned me with this task because he believed that I was the best person on the team for the job … '

' … Miss, I don't give two fucks about the idiots that you work for, maybe the head of your research team thought that you were the one that was the most stupid and that's why he gave you the job. Either way, what it comes down to is that the NCR have screwed me over again … '

' … how so?' This time it was Riggs who interrupted.

'First off, my job is hard enough without having no tenderfoot along for the ride, I work alone because that way I am only responsible for myself, the fact that the NCR have sent you along makes what I do _twice_ as difficult and _twice_ as dangerous. Second … ' Hans looked down at the coffee table before him and sighed deeply.

'Say it Hans, I can take it'.

'I don't think you have the stomach for this kind of work'.

Riggs sat forward 'Hans, I am well versed in Deathclaw behaviour, I have seen these animals hunt and feed more times than I can remember, back in the lab we placed Brahmin in their feeding grounds, we … '

'… Have you ever seen em' attack a settler camp back in your lab?' Hans voiced was now raised 'seen em' swat away men and women while eating their children alive and screaming? Have you ever watched as they feed on the weak then cripple the strongest and carry em' off when they've had their fill? HAVE YOU?!'

Now it was Riggs who looked down at the floor. Hans spoke again, this time far more quietly than before ' Miss, I don't mean to frighten you and I don't know what the things back in your lab are like but out here, the only way to deal with these fuckers is to take them out. Period. Not study or research them'.

Riggs looked up at Hans 'that's why I'm here Hans, but I can't do it alone'.

Hans frowned, 'What're you hopin' to find out here Miss?'

Crocker got up from his place on the sofa clearly agitated, 'will you two please excuse me', and with that he left the room and closed the door behind him.

'My team needs samples … '

' … what kinda' samples?'

'We need to see if the species genome has altered among the Deathclaws born in the wild, I need tissue and blood samples from adult specimens, juveniles and if possible amniotic fluid samples from wild laid egg clutches'.

Hans looked at her puzzled 'what's that gonna' achieve?'

'When the first scientists began work on the genetic engineering of the species they had to ensure that the numbers could be easily controlled, they needed them to reproduce but the rate of reproduction had to be controlled and closely monitored. They achieved this in two ways, firstly when the adult females became gravid, they were given a serum which was designed to ensure that all eggs laid would produce babies of the same sex, thus ensuring that when the hatchlings reached sexual maturity, they could not interbreed among themselves'.

Hans lit another cigarette 'playin' god'.

'Secondly on the rare occasions that a female reproduced without the scientists being aware, they developed a separate serum which was injected directly into the eggs, this ensured that when the babies hatched out they would be permanently sterile and incapable of future reproduction. We need the samples because we have no idea whether or not the serums will work on Deathclaws born out in the wastes'.

Hans responded 'but even if they do, hows that gonna' help? I mean, I couldn't even tell you how many of these bastards are out here in the Mojave, let alone where they all are, how you gonna' know how many there are on the continent and what are you gonna' do even if you did know?'

Riggs looked at Hans 'if the serums don't work then that's bad, we need to scrap the whole program and go back to remapping the genome among the wild populations and that's going to take some time, but if they do work then that means that the genome among the wild born Deathclaws has, at least in some part, remained true to the original specimens. If that is the case then we are looking at building a … culling … tool'. Riggs realised that she had said too much.

Hans sat froward and stubbed out his cigarette 'culling tool?'

'OK, I shouldn't be telling you this as we are still in the developmental stages but we know that aside from food, the one thing that the Deathclaws require to survive is water, we know that the adults don't seem to require as much water as babies or juveniles but the fact is that they all need water. We are looking at a formula that can be introduced into all water sources across the continent, it will be engineered to be harmless to any other species that come into contact with it but will render all Deathclaws permanently infertile and unable to produce future offspring'.

'So you're talkin' about the death of the entire species within a couple of generations?'

'Exactly Hans, that's why we need these samples, that's why I need your help'.

Hans considered this for a moment, 'Miss, there's one thing I don't understand, why here?'

'The Deathclaw population here in the Mojave is increasing more so than anywhere else on the recorded continent, the main reason I was chosen for this assignment is that back in Vault City, my specialist area of research was how the Deathclaws breeding was affected by environmental conditions. There is something about the Mojave that means that the Deathclaws seem to breed more readily here, we need to find out why they … '

' … why bother? If this formula is gonna' do what you say, soon there's gonna' be none left to breed anyways'.

'We believe that when the Deathclaws were created they retained some kind of inherent memory from one of the species they were crossed with, maybe even built into their DNA, some kind of indicator or instinct that tells them that this is the place to come to breed, just like birds used to migrate to other places before the bombs fell. Hans, if I'm right then the Mojave is in terrible danger'.

Hans's expression changed 'what do you mean?'

'Think about it Hans, why have Deathclaw attacks been increasing in the Mojave? If I'm right then it's simply because there are more of them here, if the wild specimens are catching on to the fact that the Mojave is the place to be when it comes to reproduction then we need to figure out a way of warning people'.

'Warning people of what?' Hans already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it spoken out loud.

Riggs locked eyes with the hunter 'That sooner or later all wild adult Deathclaws of breeding age are going to be heading to the Mojave, Hans, if I'm right, soon there are going to be more Deathclaws here than people'.

Hans stood up 'well Miss, we better go see what we can find out. Now I can keep you alive out there but if we're goin' to travel together then I have only one condition'.

Riggs looked at the hunter 'which is?'

Hans placed his hat back on his head and picked up his rifle 'that you do exactly what I say, no matter _what_ I say'.

'I can live with that, and please, call me Ellen'.

Hans slung the rifle back into the straps around his back 'OK Miss, we're gonna' go talk to some buddies of mine, my last kill was almost three weeks ago now, just south of the Red Rock Canyon I nailed a juvenile that seemed to have lost the rest of his pack. Things have been quiet since then but if anyone's heard anything it'll be these guys, I hope you brought plenty of caps...'

'Why is that?'

'It'll be dark out by now so we'll stay the night in Freeside but first thing tomorrow we need to get you kitted out for travel, we'll go to Mick and Ralph's place, they know me but they still aint cheap'.

'Where are we headed?' Riggs asked as the Hans started out of the door.

'The Atomic Wrangler, grab your shit on the way out'.

2.

The two NCR soldiers spilled out of the motel room, both were drunk, both were on their last night of downtime before reporting back for active duty at the nearby Ranger station Charlie. The soldiers were regular visitors to Novac and in particular the various prostitutes that had taken up residence there. They shouted and sang as they staggered down the Motel steps and at the door which they had just left appeared the figure of the prostitute with whom they had both just spent the last of their caps. She was naked, aside from a pair of cowboy boots. 'Bye boys, see you next month'.

The two soldiers looked up to the door 'see ya' Leyla,' shouted Roberts,

'keep yer pussy warm for me baby' slurred Davis as he struggled to keep his footing.

Leyla waved seductively and blew the soldiers a kiss before returning to her room and closing the door behind her. Davis and Roberts left the Motel complex and turned onto the road that led away to their posting. The two soldiers staggered down a small hill and past Jeannie May Crawfords house, Roberts in particular had previously had several run-ins with Jeannie May due to him drinking too much and a getting little too rough with her 'girls' as she called them. Roberts took the opportunity to express his dislike for her by shouting drunken gibberish at her house and attempting to kick her mailbox over, his kick missed and and he fell through the picket fence which surrounded the Crawford house. Davis took great pleasure in this spectacle and laughed until his belly hurt as he picked up his brother in arms.

'Holy shit Roberts, you … you took out that bitch's fence' Davis said creased up with laughter,

'well … fff … ffuck her an all her shit man, I don't give a shit anyw … ' Roberts trailed off into incomprehensible drunken rambling as his friend slung his arm around his shoulders. The two men wobbled on and cut left through the front yard of the McBride place and struggled past the small Brahmin pen attached to the side wall of the house. The soldiers came upon the train tracks and began to follow them south as they had countless times before, they drunkenly chatted as they continued on their way.

'You know what Roberts … next off time we get, we should go to the strip man'.

'Shit Davis … ' slurred Roberts ' … we just fuckin spit-roasted that slut man … she'll let us do anythin' we want to her an you … you just wanna' see her strip … what the fuck man …?'

'No you dumb-ass, not see Leyla strip, _THE_ strip man … Vegas, yer know … Gomorrah, The tops … Casinos man … 'sides man Leyla's alright man … I don't like when you talk about her like that bro… '

The chirping of crickets and various nocturnal insects filled the air as the soldiers ambled down the tracks. Aside from the insects and the drunken chatter of the two soldiers, the only other noise was the large metal pylons lining the tracks which groaned and creaked in protest under the night breeze and the occasional yelp of coyotes. It took a while for Roberts to register what his comrade had just said but once it did, it started off the same argument that the two had every time they visited Novac and Leyla in particular.

'Man that bitch is a fuckin' gutter slut man … for five caps extra she'd let any random dude pull it out her ass an' shove it down her throat … an you think she's sweet on you? C'mon man … '

Davis yanked his friend's arm from around his shoulder and shoved him in the chest, causing Roberts to stumble and fall backwards to the ground. 'FUCK YOU ROBERTS … YOU DON'T TALK LIKE THAT … You don't EVER TALK THAT WAY ABOUT HER'!

Roberts scrambled back to his feet and stood to face his friend. 'Look dickhead …' Roberts slurred, '… Leyla is a straight up whore man … you think she's into _you_ …? She's into the _caps_ man … that's it bro … caps'.

Davis grabbed Roberts by the lapels of his fatigues and yanked him close so that their noses were almost touching, 'you say one more thing ass-hole … one more thing an I swear to god I'll fuck you up so bad … ' He didn't get time to finish the sentence as Roberts delivered a swift head butt to the bridge of his pals nose, sending Davis sprawling to the ground. In his intoxicated state, Roberts almost fell over himself but managed to retain his balance. As he waited for his friend to get back to his feet he noticed the lights of Ranger Station Charlie off in the distance down the train tracks. The thought of the C.O. Busting their balls for turning in for roll-call in such a state seemed to sober him up somewhat and Roberts helped his friend to his feet amid a torrent of apologies and insults.

The two soldiers wrapped their arms around each others shoulders, staggered to the broken road along side the tracks and headed towards the lights of the Ranger Station in the distance. They had got no further than 20 feet when the two men stopped still. Something was wrong. Motionless the two soldiers listened intently, every so often they could hear the creaking of the steel towers along side the train tracks to their right but aside from that, nothing. No crickets. No insects. No coyotes, just deathly silence. Something was _very_ wrong. Instinctively the two soldiers crouched down while drawing their pistols, moving quickly and as quietly as they could into the cover provided by the left side of the canyon they had been walking down, they stumbled over the ancient remains of a broken motorcycle and its skeletal rider and squatted down on either side of a large protruding rock and listened, their hearts pounding in their ears.

It was Davis who whispered first ' … Roberts man … what is it …?'

'I don't know bro … stay on the clock … eyes open man'.

The two friends then heard something that neither of them had ever heard before, a sound that chilled them to their very core and sobered them both up instantly. From somewhere in the darkness of the canyon echoed a guttural, primeval growl that the two men felt reverberate in their chests. They had both heard the sounds of Coyotes, Nightstalkers and even the cries of the Feral Ghouls coming from the nearby Repconn test site when out on night patrols, but nothing like this. There was a scrabbling of rock from the ridge up above them and the two soldiers were showered in pebbles and Mojave sand. Looking up, Davis and Roberts pushed their backs into the canyon wall and gripped their sidearms tightly. Roberts nudged Davis and gave him the hand signal to watch their rear flank. Davis nodded, understanding that whatever was up there would have to come down from either the left or the right side. The two soldiers remained crouching and watched their respective flanks intently, their ears strained into the black silence of the night, their hearts pounded in their chests and their senses were on fire.

Another low, deep growl sounded throughout the canyon, accompanied by a whirlwind of scrabbling rock and a small cloud of dust, this time from the opposite side of the canyon to where the two terrified soldiers were crouched. The two soldiers heads instantly snapped to where the sound came from. In the darkness they could barely make out the dust cloud behind one of the large pylons that lined the side of the railway tracks. This time Roberts whispered, 'shit Davis, how'd it get by you man?' Davis responded in a hushed shout, 'Fuck you bro … Nothin' got by me, whatever it is got by you man … my side is clear'! Roberts looked at his terrified friend, 'then there's two of em' man cos' nothin' got by me either … SHIT … OK here's what we're gonna do, you're gonna watch that side of the canyon and keep an eye on our rear flank, I'm gonna watch our front and keep an eye on that side of the canyon. We're gonna hug this side an' move steady and quiet towards Charlie, you got it?'

'I got it man' whispered Davis 'lets do it'.

The two soldiers stood and moved slightly out from the canyon wall, Roberts faced toward Ranger Station Charlie, keeping his weapon extended in front of him, double handed grip, head facing front, eyes locked to the right on the opposite side of the canyon. Davis mashed his left side against the back of his partner and aimed his pistol towards the darkness on the opposite side of the canyon, head facing front, eyes locked to the right on the path behind them where they had just come from. Once the position was established, Davis, being the rear guard and following Roberts on point whispered 'move up man.'

Roberts began to move and the pair had barely gotten ten steps when there was an explosion of movement and sound from the ridge above them, the two terrified men froze, then spun and aimed their weapons upwards towards the noise, more rock and dust fell down and Roberts could barely make out a dark hunched shape up on the ridge blacking out the stars, off to their left. 'There man … look there'. Davis looked toward where his friend had motioned and began to whisper, 'what bro? Where? I don … ' His sentence was cut short as he was struck with incredible force from behind, Roberts staggered to his right, instinctively wind-milling his arms to keep his balance. From Roberts' point of view Davis was right there on his left side then, a flash of a large dark shape, something rough like gravel scraped his left shoulder knocking him off-balance, then his friend was catapulted face first into the canyon wall before them. As his eyes focused through the surprise and dust, the shape seemed to grow from the ground next to the crumpled body of his friend. As it stood it turned to face the petrified and confused soldier, the thing before him angled its head slowly downwards and extended it arms straight out from its sides.

Roberts now realised that he was facing a Deathclaw and instantly thought 'headshot', with his pistol in his right hand he raised his arms together before him in a motion that he had practised countless times before. Roberts knew that as he looked at the head of the creature before him, his left hand would meet his right hand perfectly gripping his weapon, at that point he would pull the trigger and the bullet would hit the exact spot where his eyes were fixed. Roberts went through this series of motions in a fraction of a second but only his right hand appeared in front of him. Confused, he glanced down to his left side to find his arm was gone from the shoulder, he felt no pain, just confusion, fear and a strange sense of calm. Roberts dropped his gun and looked back up at the beast that stood before him, he saw a blur of motion from the creature's left side, felt a cold sensation around his throat and then all of a sudden the world was spinning.

He saw the night sky, the canyon wall, the train tracks and road, wall, sky, wall, tracks, road, wall, sky, over and over and over. The soldiers head landed on the opposite side of the train tracks from where his decapitated body fell. Mercifully, Roberts' head landed facing away from where the Deathclaw began to devour the bodies of the two soldiers, he didn't see the smaller one which had distracted the soldiers descend from the ridge and join the feast but as the world began to go black and the lights left his eyes, Roberts saw the three babies approaching from the darkness, he saw two walk out of his line of sight and over to where his body lay, he watched as the third and smallest baby walked to where his head was, he saw the baby squat before him, inches away from his face and sniff the air around him. As blackness enveloped him he saw the baby lunge forward, teeth bared and mouth gaping and that was the last sight that NCR Private Nathan Roberts ever saw.


End file.
